


Goodbye Again

by PrettyTheWorld



Series: Until At Last You Know [2]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Family Bonding, Friendship, Future Fic, Grief, Hospice, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mommy Issues, Non-Graphic Smut, Pittsburgh, Post-Canon, Support, Terminal Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22369108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyTheWorld/pseuds/PrettyTheWorld
Summary: Brian contemplated what he wanted to say next; how personal he wanted to get. He still wasn’t sure whether or not Joan would hear a word of what he said -- she hadn’t reacted to anything thus far -- so maybe it was better to lay it all on the line. His lifelong mantra creeped back into his brain, and he scooted his chair a little closer to the bed.No apologies, no regrets.--Against his original plans (and, perhaps, better judgment), Brian makes his way back to Pittsburgh to see his mother one final time.
Relationships: Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk)
Series: Until At Last You Know [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610245
Comments: 27
Kudos: 77





	Goodbye Again

**Author's Note:**

> After completing "Every Storm Makes Us Stronger," this one wouldn't leave my brain alone. 
> 
> Blame TrueIllusion. I do. She makes me into the Joan Crawford of QAF fic. "Why do you make me hurt you, Brian???" =P
> 
> (But seriously, thank you for all the editing, encouraging, and enabling. XO)

Justin shifted slightly, careful not to jostle Brian’s head, which rested lightly on his shoulder as he dozed on their short flight to Pittsburgh International. Despite his protests to the contrary, Brian’s current unorthodox sleep state was a testament to the toll the last few weeks had taken on him. Though it made him worry even more about his husband, Justin was relieved that Brian was getting any kind of rest at all; it was unlikely that the next few days would bring him much respite otherwise. 

After all, they were on a plane to go see _Joan Kinney_. Justin never thought he’d see the day when that was the intention of their travels back to their hometown. But, things changed.

The most deadly form of brain cancer had a way of doing that. 

_Glioblastoma_ , Justin thought to himself, remembering the night Brian had confessed that he’d run into his mother at his oncologist’s office, and she’d revealed her terminal condition to her only son. What he remembered most was his partner falling apart shortly after, weeping in his arms for the better part of an hour, as a torrent of loss, both past and present, quite literally poured out of him for the first time in, perhaps, ever. 

At the time, Joan still had a few potentially good weeks remaining, but Brian had staunchly refused to communicate with her further, stating that what’s done was done, and they’d said their goodbyes -- that he didn’t really know what else to do or say, or what else could change. 

While it made sense to Justin, he also knew his husband… perhaps better than Brian knew himself. So, while Brian’s decision to fly back to Pittsburgh seemed impulsive in the moment, Justin was far from surprised that it had come to that. What surprised him more than it probably should have was that Brian had asked him to come along. 

Their flight landed a little later than anticipated, which Justin saw as a good thing, since Brian slept through the majority of their delay, despite unexpected turbulence while above a severe thunderstorm that was somewhere around State College. Brian stirred moments after the plane had touched down, and lifted his head, only for Justin to realize that for the briefest of seconds, Brian had forgotten why they were traveling -- only to have it crashing back almost immediately.

“Fuck,” Brian breathed out, leaning his neck to each side to crack it and relieve some of the tension from his uncomfortable sleep position. Justin just gave him a small but understanding smile and squeezed his hand. 

Once they were in the terminal, they navigated through the airport quickly, heading down to the rental car counter. Brian almost always hired a driver when he was in Pittsburgh, but this time, he’d insisted on providing his own transportation. Justin suspected it was for the added privacy, if nothing else. There was no telling what this trip was going to have in store for them. 

They stayed at a hotel downtown that night, rather than at the loft -- partly for convenience, and partly because Justin suspected that the lack of personal association with their accommodations was necessary for Brian to get through the next couple days. While the loft didn’t carry numerous or substantial memories of Joan, they still existed -- some more painful than others. 

“Do you want to meet the guys for drinks?” Justin asked once they had settled in. It was after nine o’clock, but certainly not outside the realm of possibility for Woody’s. Hell, several years prior, it would’ve been another hour or two before their group had even ventured out to begin their late night escapades. 

Brian sighed -- something he’d been doing far more than usual lately -- and shook his head, opting instead to crawl onto the bed, lying in a semi-fetal position on top of the duvet. Everything about the trip so far had been almost entirely out-of-character for Brian -- at least outwardly -- most notably how he hadn’t said a word when the rental car company had given him a Toyota Camry. He’d simply shrugged and opened the driver’s door, schlepping himself inside. 

(“Are you sure you don’t want to upgrade to a luxury sedan?” Justin had asked, more for Brian than himself, as the rental car attendant eyed them curiously. 

Brian had simply shrugged again and muttered, “It doesn’t fucking matter.”)

A part of Justin worried that perhaps Brian was veering toward a more serious depressive episode, but he also had to remind himself that Brian was going through the experience of a fairly major loss -- one he had no idea how to navigate on many levels -- and, all things considered, he was probably more functional than most would have been in his shoes. 

“I can take the car and go pick up something to eat,” Justin tried again, talking to Brian’s back from his spot near their hotel room’s small wardrobe. 

Brian didn’t respond, and Justin didn’t want to push, so he finished hanging up a few of their shirts, and then walked over to the bed to further assess the situation. Brian’s eyes were closed, but Justin was fairly certain that he wasn’t sleeping again, so he tried his luck and crawled up onto the bed, next to his husband. 

“Is there anything I can do to help you feel better tonight?” he asked gently, once he’d positioned himself so that his face was only a few inches away from Brian’s. 

Brian opened his eyes slowly, carefully assessing the younger man before leaning forward and capturing Justin’s lips in a kiss that quickly grew heated. 

It was no surprise to Justin that Brian was opting to use sex as a distraction against anything else he was experiencing, and while it wasn’t necessarily his own chosen method, he knew that it would be enough to refocus Brian’s mind for the time being. 

They moved slowly, savoring each other as they began gradually removing each other’s clothing and exploring new expanses of exposed skin. By the time Brian finally lined himself up and pushed into Justin’s body, they’d been at it for nearly an hour, their bodies flushed and sweaty as they began to move in synch -- an act they’d long ago mastered and continued to perfect. Afterward, both satiated, they pulled back the duvet and turned off the lights, lying tangled together in comfortable silence, though Justin only truly felt himself start to relax when he recognized the steady, deep, slightly-wheezy breaths indicating that Brian had fallen asleep. 

***

The next morning, Justin woke up to the sound of a rather irate Brian on the phone. The upside was that he sounded much more like himself, but the downside was rather apparent as Justin focused in on the content of what he was saying. 

“Well, what the fuck, Claire? What does that even mean?” he asked, his iPhone balanced between his ear and shoulder as he paced in and out of the bathroom doorway, clad in Armani suit pants, with an open belt and no shirt. It appeared that the phone call from his older sister had disrupted his standard morning bathroom regimen.

Justin couldn’t hear Claire’s response, but her voice was loud enough that he could make out its shrill timbre from the bed. 

“Is she awake? Coherent? What?” Brian asked, clearly trying to keep his voice under control, which Justin found admirable. No encounter he’d ever had with Claire Kinney, limited as they were, had included her acting as the reasonable party.

Whatever Claire’s response, it resulted in Brian closing his eyes and heaving yet another heavy sigh. Justin tried to tune out the rest of their conversation, feeling slightly guilty for eavesdropping when Brian thought he was still sleeping, but the remainder of it was difficult to ignore, if for no reason than the increasing annoyance in Brian’s tone.

“Fine… No, I don’t know when I’ll be there… Fine… Yeah… Yes, I fucking understand, I’m not an infant… Alright… _Fine. Goodbye_.” There was the thud of Brian’s phone hitting the bathroom counter, followed by a frustrated groan, and a muttered, “Fucking cunt.” 

When Brian walked fully into the bedroom, he quickly realized that Justin was awake. “Did you hear most of that?” he asked, sounding tired all over again. 

“It was kind of hard not to,” Justin admitted. “What’s going on? I didn’t realize you were planning to tell her you were coming.” 

Brian shrugged. “I needed more information about what was going on with Joan, because I doubt my mother signed any kind of release to allow any of the medical staff to speak to me. I can’t imagine she would have listed me as a medical proxy.” 

Justin couldn’t argue with that logic. “I’m surprised Claire’s willing to give you any information about her.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Brian asked, snorting. “Who do you think she expects to pay the bills when this comes to an end? My sister might be a raging bitch, but she’s not a complete idiot.” He walked over to the closet and selected a shirt. “It sounds like my mother was more lucid this morning. The hospice nurse called to tell her.” 

“Are you thinking of going to see her today?” Justin asked, trying to sound more conversational than suggestive. 

Brian shook his head. “Not if Claire or any of her demon spawns are going to be there. I’m going into the office for a couple hours. There are a few things I want to check in on while I’m here.” 

He disappeared back into the bathroom to finish getting ready before Justin could respond. The intention of their visit had definitely _not_ been for Brian to work, but Justin knew that Brian had to confront everything on his own timeline. And as a result, it sounded like he’d have a free day in Pittsburgh to do as he pleased, at least for the time that Brian was at Kinnetik. 

When Brian left for work shortly after, he announced that he’d call for a company car, leaving the rental for Justin to do as he pleased (and Justin secretly wondered if a part of Brian had realized the reputation blunder he’d made the previous night, in the form of the sensible family car), so Justin decided to spend the morning with Jennifer, much to her delight. 

“How’s Brian holding up?” she asked, as they sat on the patio of a South Side coffee shop, enjoying the unseasonably pleasant weather. Jennifer had humored him with smalltalk and general catching up at first, but inevitably, he knew that the topic was going to shift to the matter at hand. 

Justin sighed, taking a careful sip of his latte before he replied. “He’s a mess. But what’s worse is he’s trying to _not_ seem like he’s a mess. I was less worried when he was actually willing to show more of his emotions.” 

Jennifer had been one of two people (the other being Daphne) with whom Justin had shared anything about his husband’s breakdown a few weeks prior -- in limited detail, to respect as much of Brian’s privacy and dignity as he could. While she’d been surprised to hear that it had happened, especially knowing the bravado Brian typically tried to wear in difficult situations, Justin’s mother was relieved that Brian had been willing to be that open with Justin. Aside from the obvious reasons related to Joan Kinney’s condition, Jennifer appreciated that Brian’s willingness to be vulnerable further cemented his commitment to, and trust in her son. 

“I can’t imagine what he must be feeling,” she admitted, stirring her tea. “Brian’s endured so much loss in his life, in so many ways. To have it so blatantly in front of him as it’s happening must be terrifying for him.” 

Justin nodded. “He _is_ fucking terrified. I just wish I knew how to help him, but I don’t think _he_ even knows what he needs right now. There are so many competing factors and so many layers to all of this, it’s hard to even _guess_ where his thoughts might be lingering. Truthfully, I don’t really even know that much about his relationship with his mom besides what little he’s shared.”

Jennifer turned more toward her son, gently placing one of her hands over his. “You know, sweetheart, since you have most of the day free, there _is_ someone you might consider talking to about some of this…”

And that’s how, about two hours later, Justin found himself sitting across from Michael at a small cafe not far from the hotel.

“Thanks for meeting me on such short notice,” Justin said, smiling gratefully after the two men had embraced. 

“Are you kidding? I was thrilled to hear from you! And,” Michael continued, a bit sheepishly, “I’m glad you asked to meet somewhere other than the Diner. Ma’s working today, and while I know she’d be over the moon to see you--”

“--it’s not really the best time,” Justin finished. 

“Exactly,” Michael agreed. “She knows well enough to keep her distance and let Brian come to her, if and when he’s ready, but she’s worried as hell about him -- like we all are -- and I’m fairly certain you’d be subjected to the Kinney inquisition.” 

Justin laughed, knowing that Michael was likely right. They quickly placed their orders when the server approached the table, and then Justin decided it was time to broach his intended topic. 

“Brian’s been a lot more open about the subject of his mom more recently,” he began hesitantly, “but I feel like there’s so much more that I’m missing. You have a lot more experience with his family from back in the day, so I was hoping I could… I guess, pick your brain a little bit? I’m just… trying to figure out where he’s at right now, and…”

Justin trailed off, not feeling like he’d conveyed exactly what he was meaning to ask, but fortunately, Michael nodded as if he understood.

“The funny thing -- well, really more like the shitty thing--” he began, “--is that truthfully, if Brian had never known any of this, and then one day got a phone call saying his mom had died, it probably would’ve been ‘better’ for him… whatever that means, but…” Michael shrugged.

Justin nodded. “He kind of said that when it first came up, that he always just assumed that’s how it would happen, not that he’d actually have to, like… bear witness to her actual process of dying.” 

“He hasn’t said much to me about it. We haven’t talked much since he was here last, before he found out, and I’ve just let him direct the conversations we _have_ had,” Michael explained. 

For some reason, this information surprised Justin. Though he knew Brian hadn’t been as forthcoming about the situation with anyone but him, he figured that surely, Michael was someone that Brian would have confided in to some extent. “Really? I guess I just assumed because of what happened with his dad that…”

“I didn’t know his mom very well, honestly,” Michael admitted. “I always made an effort to be polite to her whenever she was around, and my mom always sent over baked goods to give her, but I definitely saw his dad more when we were growing up. Mrs. Kinney didn’t really… she didn’t have much time for him, I guess. She never seemed that interested in her kids. I think that’s why he got so close to Ma,” he smiled sadly. “She was like the mother he always wanted but never got at home. It was different than his relationship with his dad. It wasn’t that Brian _didn’t_ get attention from Jack -- he actually spent a fair amount of time with us. It was more that his dad expected him to become someone he wasn’t ever going to be. I saw a lot more of that firsthand, so I think when Mr. Kinney died, Brian knew I would understand where he was coming from.” 

In hindsight, it made sense. Michael had grown up without a father, and Brian had one he felt he couldn’t relate to at all, so for all intents and purposes, as teenage boys, they were on relatively equal footing. On the other hand, Michael had an amazingly loving mother who made sure he had everything he needed, never gave him a reason to question his importance in her life -- and, if anything, probably made him wish he could be a little _less_ important to her sometimes (bless Debbie’s heart). Knowing Brian, it was entirely likely that he abstained from saying much about the gaps in his relationship with his mother because he didn’t really feel like Michael would understand. And Justin guessed that even if Debbie had realized the true extent of the absence of motherly love in Brian’s life, rather than making him talk about it, she just made up for it instead. 

“Do you remember anything Brian mentioned about his mom, good or bad?” Justin asked. “I know that’s super vague, but I’m just… trying to make sense of things, I guess. Like, until somewhere in the last forty-eight hours, he didn’t even _want_ to come here to see her. It’s hard to not wonder why. He said he didn’t think it would change anything, and was better that way, but…” 

Michael hummed contemplatively, and asked for some time to think about it. Justin agreed easily, and they settled into a brief period of comfortable conversation, catching up on their respective lives and families. Once their food arrived, Michael seemed ready to return to their previous topic. 

“I think the majority of the comments Brian made about his mom were centered around her not noticing him -- not that he said it outright, like, ‘My mom doesn’t pay attention to me,’ but more subtly, like sarcastically saying, ‘Not like she’s going to notice,’ or making a sound of disbelief if anyone suggested she might care about something involving him, kind of like, ‘Yeah right.’” 

“Do you think she really didn’t care?” Justin asked curiously before biting off the end of a french fry.

Michael had just taken a bite of his sandwich, so he shook his head to answer as he chewed before swallowing and adding, “I don’t think she didn’t care, necessarily. I think she believed she did love Brian, but I think she also purposely tried to keep her distance.” 

“Why?”

“Well,” Michael began, “I don’t think you were at the gathering after Mr. Kinney’s funeral, right?”

Justin shook his head. He’d actually been having sex with Daphne when that had been going on, but considering it had taken place in Michael’s childhood bed, mentioning it didn’t seem apropos. 

“Claire had asked everyone to share a memory they had of Brian’s dad, and no one was really able to come up with something that was appropriate. Looking back, this was probably kind of dumb, but I was just trying to help Brian out and make it less awkward, so I took a story that had partially happened to Brian and me when we were younger, and lied a little to make it sound better -- something about Mr. Kinney taking us bowling, and what happened when Brian got a strike. I’m pretty sure anyone who knew Jack knew it was total bullshit, but Mrs. Kinney thanked me, and I guess that pissed Brian off, so… as he does, Brian made a scene and told the entire room his _own_ story about how his dad had told his mom to get an abortion when he’d found out she was pregnant with him.”

“Jesus,” Justin intoned. He’d been about to take a bite of his burger, but dropped it back down to his plate in disgust. “Was _that_ true?”

Michael nodded sadly. “Unfortunately, yeah. It came up now and then when we were growing up -- either Brian would mention that his dad had never really wanted him, or even Mr. Kinney said something about it once or twice -- but it was always this weird backward compliment about how having Brian hadn’t been so bad after all. It was never said in a way that actually made Brian feel good, though.” 

Justin felt his eyes fall closed for a brief moment, empathy washing over him, and he wished that he could pull Brian into his arms and make him know how truly _important_ he was -- clearly his parents had done a piss-poor job of displaying it. And though Justin had been in a legitimate relationship with Brian for nearly two decades by that point and could basically write the Cliff’s Notes of the Kinney Operating Manual, a lot of the _whys_ for some of Brian’s more unorthodox behaviors and ideologies hadn’t made much sense. Until now. 

“So, going back to Brian’s mom, you think Joan felt guilty for having a child that her husband didn’t want, so she took it out on Brian by withholding herself from him?”

Michael shrugged. “Something like that. She spent a lot of time at church, so maybe she was praying for forgiveness, who knows. But I think that’s at least part of why she intentionally didn’t give Brian a lot of her energy. She was a little better with Claire. They didn’t get along, really, but it was more of a typical mother-daughter nagging relationship. I think Brian resented that she at least paid attention to Claire, even if it was negative most of the time. As far as Brian was concerned, she was the _wanted_ child. He tried so hard to please them for the longest time, and it was just never enough to make them _truly_ notice him, so I think after awhile he just… gave up.” 

Justin sighed, truly hating what he was gaining from this conversation, but feeling grateful for it, and for Michael’s willingness to share, nonetheless. “It makes so much sense,” he admitted. “Brian always used to say, ‘You’re the only one you need, you’re the only one you’ve got.’ I think he sees it differently now -- I _hope_ he does, at least, but if that’s the support he was getting from his family, I can see why he felt like he needed to adopt that.” 

“Yeah,” Michael agreed, and he and Justin shared a sad smile. “He’s one of the best people I know, but I wouldn’t wish how he got there on anyone.”

***

Brian had successfully managed to distract himself from his familial woes by following up on a few work-related projects in the morning, but by the time early afternoon arrived, he was starting to feel more agitated than productive. 

He didn’t want to interrupt Justin’s time with Jennifer, and he wasn’t ready to get cornered into talking about his feelings with Michael or Debbie, so neither of his usual ‘other’ haunts -- the comic book store and the Diner -- were viable options for the time being. 

Needing to find some other means of distraction, he left the office and called for a car, initially unsure of his next destination, but when the driver pulled up, the words he found leaving his mouth were, “Family Hospice, please.”

_Well fuck, I guess I’m doing this_ , he thought to himself as the car set into motion. 

The hospice was closer to Liberty Avenue than Brian would have preferred, but he realized the chances of running into someone he knew were slim to none, considering the circumstances.

He hadn’t factored in his own family.

It had literally been over a decade since Brian had last seen his nephews in person, but there was no mistaking that he was related to the 20-something man heading toward the main door just as Brian was walking in. And if Brian hadn’t had a plan in mind for when he finally saw Joan, he _really_ didn’t have a plan for this. 

His first inclination was to play it casual and not even acknowledge the other man, hoping the two could pass as the strangers they more or less were, so he focused his gaze forward and moved toward the main desk, trying not to notice whether or not his probable nephew had any idea who he was.

He didn’t get more than two paces further before he got his answer. 

“Um, Uncle Brian?”

Brian froze in place, taking a second to neutralize his facial expression as much as possible before he turned to acknowledge the man who had to be Peter, Claire’s youngest son. He and Peter had had even fewer interactions throughout their lives, thanks in no small part to John, his homo-hating older brother. 

“Peter,” Brian said evenly, trying to force himself into a more businesslike mindset than the slight mental freakout he was actually experiencing internally. 

Peter gave an uncomfortable smile and then shifted uncomfortably before saying, “I guess you’re here to see Grandma?”

Brian immediately suppressed the urge to say something sarcastic regarding any other intentions a person might have while visiting a hospice -- it was clear that Peter was just as uncomfortable as he was, so if smalltalk was going to be the name of the game, it was likely better than other alternatives. 

“That was the plan,” Brian replied, nodding. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, um… and, uh, you might want to as well,” he said hesitantly, looking down at his feet. 

“I would?”

Peter looked up to meet his eyes directly. “My mom is here.” 

“Oh,” Brian nodded again, this time in understanding. “That’s probably a good idea, then.” He paused and then offered his nephew a half-smile. “Thanks.” 

Something that looked like relief flashed across Peter’s face, and he returned the gesture before he appeared to hesitate again, and then asked, “Could I buy you a cup of coffee or something? Since it looks like we’re both leaving now?” 

His request caught Brian off-guard, but he quickly regained his faculties and said, “Sure, but I don’t have a car here.” 

Peter shrugged. “No problem, I can drive.” They walked back out to the parking lot and toward a forest green Jeep Patriot. Peter unlocked the passenger door for Brian before walking around to the driver’s side and climbing in. “I got this right after I graduated college,” he offered, by way of explanation, as they put on their seatbelts. “I couldn’t afford much, and I had to buy it used and pretty bare-bones, but I just needed something that was… mine.” 

Brian nodded. He respected that and, in many ways, could completely relate. “Good for you.”

“Glad you think so,” Peter said as he steered the car out of the parking lot. “My mom sure as hell didn’t agree.” His tone made it clear that he and Claire probably didn’t see eye-to-eye on too many things. 

Brian cleared his throat. “Do you and your mom not get along well?”

Peter snorted. “That’s an understatement.” He glanced over at Brian to gauge his reaction before continuing. “My mom cares about two things in life: herself, and money. When I finished school, I think she thought I would move back home, get a job, and share my paycheck with her.” 

“What about your brother?” Brian asked, not really caring what his nephew John had gotten up to in life. As far as he was concerned, the little shit probably deserved to be in prison for one thing or another, if his behaviors at age twelve were any indication of where his life was headed. 

“John can barely support himself. I kinda… don’t go home that often these days. My girlfriend and I have a small place in Lawrenceville, not too far from here. I’d sooner die than live with the rest of them. I’m only here now because of my grandma.” 

Brian’s head was spinning as he tried to absorb all of the new information. While he’d barely known Peter as a child, he had known Claire for his entire life, so he wasn’t remotely surprised that her histrionic greed had alienated at least one of her children. And strangely enough, he saw a lot of himself in his younger nephew, and it made him feel a certain sense of kinship that he’d never really experienced with another family member before. Every part of him screamed to not get too attached -- to keep Peter at an arm’s length, because he’d only ever experienced disappointment from his relatives in the past -- except for one small, niggling part of his brain that held Justin’s voice, encouraging him to take a chance and give it a try. _What the hell_ …

“What’s your relationship like with Joan?” Brian asked, torn as to whether or not he actually wanted to hear the answer. On one hand, he hoped Peter had had a better experience with their familial matriarch than he had, but at the same time, he didn’t know what it would feel like to learn that she was exponentially better as a grandma compared to how she’d been as a mother. 

Peter shrugged, signalling into the next plaza. “Okay, I guess. She and my mom always spent more time focused on John, since he was always getting into something, so I didn’t really spend that much time just with her. We got along fine, but… I wouldn’t say we were ever close.” He parked the car in front of a small, independent coffee shop that Brian hadn’t remembered being there in the past. It looked a lot quieter than a Starbucks, though, so he was glad it was where Peter had chosen. 

They ordered coffee and Peter paid, despite Brian’s insistence that he didn’t have to, and then took a seat at a table near the front window.

“So what’s your life like?” Peter asked, nervously turning his coffee cup in a circle as he waited for the temperature to go down a bit. “I don’t know that much about you.”

Brian raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure your mom and grandma have had _plenty_ to say.” 

“They don’t know shit.” Peter’s tone was decisive, as he looked Brian squarely in the face. “I don’t have much family, so I guess I always wished I had a chance to know you.” 

Brian let out a long breath and wrapped his hands around his coffee cup, as if its warmth would infuse him with the bravery to be more open with the first family member to genuinely show interest in something besides his wallet. “Well, I’ve lived in New York for almost twelve years now,” he began. “I opened a branch of my company, Kinnetik, there around the same time.” 

Peter nodded with recognition. “I’ve heard about your company. It’s pretty impressive. Your ads are everywhere.” 

Brian allowed a small smile, appreciative of the recognition. “It pays the bills.” 

“If what my mom and grandma think is true, it does a lot more than that,” Peter said, smirking.

“I worked my ass off to get to where I am,” Brian replied. “That’s the part they’ve always left out.”

“Yeah, they don’t bother to think about any of that,” Peter agreed. “Even with me, I earned scholarships and busted my ass to graduate with honors and get a decent job so I could support myself. It’s happening a lot slower than I thought, but I’m doing it. All my mom sees is that I have a higher income than she ever did, and therefore, it’s my duty to help her and John out.” 

Brian rolled his eyes. “Sounds like not much has changed.”

Peter sipped his coffee, letting it roll around in his mouth for a moment before asking his next question. “What do you do besides work? I mean, living in New York must be pretty awesome.”

“It’s not bad,” Brian said nonchalantly. “It’s ridiculously crowded and fast-paced, which can get a bit tedious, but I don’t regret making the move.” 

“I’ve only been once, but I really want to go back someday. Do you live in the actual city?” 

Brian nodded. “Yeah, we live in Manhattan. Upper East Side.” 

Peter didn’t miss a beat. “We?”

Brian smirked. At least the kid knew he was gay, so that saved a separate conversation. “My husband and I live there.” 

“You’re married? That’s cool,” Peter said, and if he was at all shocked, he didn’t give any indication of it, but Brian caught the subtle glance toward his left hand where his platinum wedding band was on display, confirming his status. “Did you meet in New York?”

“No, we met here. Almost twenty years ago. We’ve been married thirteen years, since a few months before we decided to move to New York.” 

“Wow!” This time, Peter made no effort to conceal his surprise. “I had no idea.”

Brian snorted. “Probably because your mom or grandmother told you that my sinful lifestyle led me to fuck everything that moved.” 

Peter had the decency to look embarrassed, but said, “I never believed most of what they said about you. I mean, it wasn’t like they were talking to you, so I had enough sense to realize that their information wasn’t coming from anywhere reliable.”

Truthfully, Brian didn’t know whether or not Peter was bullshitting him, but he seemed to be open enough to learn the truth _now_ , so that counted for something. “I’ve been with Justin since he was seventeen. Off and on in the beginning, but mostly on. Claire and Joanie have met him, but they probably don’t realize he’s still around.” 

Peter nodded. “That’s really cool. I’ve been with my girlfriend since sophomore year at Penn State. We’ll get married, but I want to save more money before I propose.” 

“That sounds responsible,” Brian said, glad that Peter showed no indication of following in the footsteps of his mom, or the lowlife who had impregnated her twice and then bailed before Peter was even born.

“Yeah, well,” Peter huffed out a humorous laugh. “Someone in my family has to be, right?”

Not wanting to discount his efforts, Brian gave him a sincere smile. “It really sounds like you’re doing a great job.”

Peter looked up and gave Brian his first truly genuine smile of their time together. “Thanks, Uncle Brian.”

They spent the next hour continuing to get to know each other. Peter shared that he’d gotten a degree in Mechanical Engineering and worked for a local company that did innovative robotics work. He was still in an entry-level role, but working his way up. His girlfriend, Alexis, was working toward her CPA certification, and had landed a job with a Pittsburgh accounting firm whose name immediately caught Brian’s attention. Between the two of them, it was no wonder Claire had dollar signs for eyes when she thought of her youngest son. Brian hoped she wouldn’t see a dime. But then again, if he and Peter had anything else in common, that would probably be unlikely.

Surprising even himself, Brian ended up telling his nephew a good bit about his own life, including more about his life with Justin, and about Gus -- whose existence had been entirely unknown to the living members of Brian’s family, since only Jack had met then-infant-Gus shortly before his death. Peter was extremely curious about the cousin he’d never known he had, and a little disappointed to learn that Gus lived in Canada, but by the time they stood up from their table in the coffee bar, Brian had offered to fly Peter and Alexis to New York to visit during the upcoming holidays, perhaps even overlapping with Gus’ planned trip to spend time with his dads. 

“Thanks again, Uncle Brian,” Peter said as he pulled up in front of Brian’s hotel to drop him off.

Brian shrugged. “You drove _and_ bought the coffee. Not sure what you’re thanking me for.”

Seeing through a little of Brian’s facade, Peter just smiled. “Thanks for giving me a chance. For letting me know a little more about you.”

Brian cleared his throat, both touched and a little uncomfortable by the sincerity in his voice. “Well, I’m sure it had to be better than anything else you’ve heard.”

Peter sighed. “I wish our family wasn’t the way they are. And I know that once Grandma is gone, you probably don’t want to see my mom ever again… I really don’t blame you.” 

Brian remained quiet, knowing that what Peter said was true, but somehow feeling bad for speaking it into reality in front of Claire’s son.

“I want you to know, though,” Peter continued, “that even if we hadn’t had this whole conversation, I wouldn’t have believed anything they said. The fact that you’re here… that you were going to see my grandmother despite… everything… That told me everything I needed to know about what kind of person you _really_ are.”

There was a knot in Brian’s throat that he couldn’t quite formulate words around as he looked over at his nephew. Finally, he found enough of his voice to utter a husky, “Thank you,” hoping that somehow, Peter heard everything else behind it. From the look on his nephew’s face, he had.

***

Justin was lying on his side of the hotel bed reading when Brian came back into the room, but immediately put his book aside as his husband approached. 

“How was the office?” he asked. Brian hadn’t texted all day, which wasn’t normal for him, but nothing about the present circumstances really was, so Justin hadn’t paid it a lot of mind. 

“Productive for awhile,” Brian said, flopping down on his side of the bed in his suit. He leaned his head back against the pillows and closed his eyes, letting out a heavy breath.

“Were you there all day?”

“No.” Brian turned his head just enough to be able to see Justin in his peripheral vision. “I tried to go see my mother.”

Justin’s eyes widened, though he felt less surprised than he probably looked. “How was that?”

Brian shrugged. “Unsuccessful. My fucking sister was there, so I didn’t stay.”

“Oh shit,” Justin breathed, covering his mouth. “Did you have to talk to her?”

“No,” Brian said, shaking his head. “My nephew Peter was there, leaving as I came in. He warned me. And then we ended up spending two hours at a coffee shop.”

Justin nearly did a double-take. “You did what?”

Over the course of the next half hour, Brian filled Justin in on the unplanned afternoon icebreaker, finishing by admitting, “I never thought I’d care to have anything to do with someone in my family, but I actually want you to meet him.” 

“That says a lot,” Justin acknowledged, continuing the gentle, soothing stroke he’d begun on Brian’s arm several minutes earlier. “It would be great if he and Alexis came up to visit in a couple weeks. New York is the best around Christmas.” 

Brian nodded. “I hope they do, shockingly enough.” 

They laid together quietly for a few more minutes, lost in their own thoughts, until Justin’s face took on a more serious expression, and then he asked, “Do you think you’re going to try to go back tonight?”

Brian sighed. “Maybe after dinner when I’m sure everyone has left. I can’t imagine Claire would give up that much of her time to any one person who wasn’t providing her with some kind of incentive.” He laughed bitterly. “Unless, of course, my mother had a vast fortune to bestow upon her. But then, she would’ve suffocated her with a pillow long before we’d have reached this point.” 

Justin stifled a laugh, glad Brian was still able to infuse some humor into the whole situation, macabre as it was. He got far more worried when Brian was quiet and withdrawn. He glanced over at the clock, realizing it was only just before five o’clock or so, despite the fact that the view of city lights outside their window made it feel more like midnight. “Do you feel like eating yet?”

“It’s still kind of early,” Brian said, shrugging. He hadn’t really eaten lunch, and had only had coffee with Peter, so for all intents and purposes, he probably should’ve been more hungry than he felt, but for the time being, and knowing what awaited him in a few hours, he felt more content to spend a little time alone with Justin, just checking out of reality. 

Fortunately, Justin, despite his bottomless pit of a stomach, agreed and rolled closer to Brian, pressing a kiss just beneath his left ear. “Any thoughts on something you’d rather do, for now?” he asked, his lips tickling the sensitive skin on Brian’s neck. He felt Brian’s mouth move as his lips turned up in a smile. 

“I’m sure I could be persuaded by whatever you have in mind,” Brian replied, turning onto his side so that he could kiss Justin properly. On some level, it felt a little inappropriate to jump right into sex immediately after a heartfelt conversation about Brian’s previously-estranged nephew, but just the same, Justin knew that, if left to his own devices for too long, Brian’s mind would start racing into unnecessarily-created scenarios for what might happen later that night -- and as far as Brian was concerned, it was something he only wanted to experience once. So, he welcomed any distraction that Justin was willing to offer. 

They made out on the bed for several minutes, just enjoying each other’s closeness and familiarity, but eventually, Brian, being Brian, realized that his suit was getting progressively more wrinkled and got up to remove it, pulling Justin with him to the bathroom immediately after he’d finished. 

Though their hotel room wasn’t technically a suite, it included a large and well-appointed shower, so Brian wasted no time in stripping Justin of his own clothing and then leading him under the hot spray. They continued to take their time with each other, not for the purpose of teasing, as both were often wont to do in order to drive the other crazy with desire, but to truly relish each other’s bodies instead, working slowly across each others’ necks, chests and torsos to earn every moan, and make every caress count. By the time Justin dropped to his knees, Brian was more aroused than he’d been in a long time -- so much so that he had to move to the built-in shower bench to avoid losing his balance after Justin took him deeply into his mouth. Once he was comfortably situated, Brian pushed Justin’s dripping blond hair out of his eyes, and held onto his shoulders while he worked his magic, returning the favor just as thoroughly after Justin had brought him to completion. 

By the time they returned to the bedroom portion of the room, an hour and a half had passed since they’d first discussed dinner. As they toweled off and dressed, they discussed possible dinner options, ultimately deciding to go somewhere within walking distance of the hotel -- it was one of the benefits of staying downtown, after all. Besides that, Brian was still not in the mood to risk running into anyone he knew.

They ended up at a small Mediterranean cafe a few blocks away that neither had ever been to before, but it had outstanding reviews. Over kabobs and a shared bottle of red wine, Justin told Brian more about his own day, admitting that he’d had lunch with Michael, but not why it had happened. He didn’t think Brian would be upset about his curiosity surrounding Brian’s relationship with Joan, but Brian still seemed to want to remain focused away from the task he had to tackle later that night. Besides, Brian was extremely intelligent and intuitive; if he truly wanted to know more about the specifics of Justin’s chat with Michael, he’d ask. 

As the meal finally wound down, Brian stole a modest bite of Justin’s baklava before sighing. “I’m going to take the car and go back to the hospice.”

Justin nodded. “Do you need me to come with you?” He knew the answer, but hoped Brian would understand and appreciate why he’d offered. 

Brian gave him a smile that was almost bashful, grateful beyond expression for what he knew Justin was willing to do, but, as expected, he shook his head. “I need to do this one alone.” 

“Call if you need me,” Justin replied, squeezing Brian’s hand before they got up from the table, staying connected as they walked back to the hotel. When they stopped by the entrance to the parking garage, Justin moved to his tiptoes to wrap his arms tightly around his husband and give him a kiss. Before they parted, Brian gave Justin’s hand one final squeeze, and they turned to leave in separate directions.

***

The hospice was much quieter at nine o’clock at night. Brian was grateful that its visiting hours were around the clock, giving him a much greater sense of security regarding the presence of any other potential visitors his mother might have. 

He took a deep breath as he approached the door leading to his mother’s room, realizing that, unlike what he’d believed on his previous trip to Pittsburgh, this truly was likely the last time he’d ever see his mother alive. Even if she lasted a few more weeks, he and Justin had plans to fly home the following evening, and Brian didn’t anticipate the need for a return trip to the Pitts again until after the holidays. This was it, and there was no turning back. He huffed out a laugh and thought to himself, _No apologies, no regrets._

Joan looked better than Brian had expected, when she came into view. She was dressed in pale pink pajamas, and had less equipment connected to her than Brian had expected, despite knowing she was in hospice care, rather than the hospital. A heart monitor to the side of her bed indicated a low but present heartbeat, and there was an IV line that Brian guessed was administering morphine to keep her comfortable, but that was it. However, she looked much more frail than when he’d seen her weeks prior, her once immaculately coiffed hair now flat and drab, and her cheeks sunken and hollow. Claire had mentioned that she was no longer able to eat or drink, so he guessed that that had contributed to it.

Brian was still standing a few feet away from the side of the bed when a hospice nurse entered the room, not seeing him at first. “Oh, I’m sorry!” she apologized quickly once she realized his presence. “I just came in to check on Mrs. Kinney. Are you family?”

Brian’s mouth felt like it was full of cotton. He cleared his throat, and managed to rasp out, “Her son.” 

The nurse nodded, giving him a sympathetic smile. “We’re doing everything we can to keep your mother comfortable, sir.”

“Thank you,” Brian replied, knowing that one of the nurse’s functions was to help soothe the patients’ family members as well. This one seemed like she’d be good at it, if he had to guess. She seemed young and eager to please still, a strange combination for someone who had chosen to spend her working hours surrounded by impending death. Regardless, he hoped she’d at least be able to give him some information. “Do you know if she can hear me?” he asked.

The nurse, whose badge read “Aubrie,” nodded.

“Mrs. Kinney has responded to her visitors several times. She hasn’t been able to communicate verbally for the last few days, but she responds with eye movements when she’s awake, and may be able to respond to yes or no questions through touch, if you hold her hand,” Aubrie explained. 

Brian nodded back and repeated, “Thank you.” 

Aubrie finished checking Joan’s vitals, made a notation on her chart, and then headed back toward the door. “Stay as long as you like. I’ll give you some privacy,” she added, pulling the door closed behind her. 

As silence settled around him again, Brian realized that he could count on one hand the number of times he’d spent one-on-one with his mother in the current century. Most of the time, others were around -- Jack, Claire, various members of his _chosen_ family… But, most notably, there had been the time she’d barged into his office after learning he had cancer, resulting in him telling her he’d rather burn in hell than spend a good day with her; the time he’d run into her at Aldi and impulsively told her he was moving to New York; and, most recently, when he’d run into her at his oncologist’s office and learned that not only was _she_ battling cancer, but also had mere _weeks_ to live. 

And now here they were, at the pinnacle of it all. Brian almost wished he’d had a drink in hand; given his mother’s penchant for alcohol as a coping mechanism, it would’ve been appropriate. 

_Here’s to you, Joanie_ , he thought bitterly.

Realizing that time wasn’t getting any longer, he forced himself to move closer to the bed, still unsure as to whether or not Joan was even aware of his presence. Her eyes were still closed, her breathing slow but steady, only barely discernible by the slight rise and fall of her chest. 

“Can you hear me?” he asked, his voice low. Joan didn’t move, so Brian repeated his question, a little louder -- still nothing. The nurse had mentioned that if he held her hand, she might be able to respond that way, but he wasn’t ready for physical contact -- too much, too fast. Besides, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted Joan to be aware of everything he wanted to say to her. Maybe it was better to leave it up to fate. 

“I’m sure you didn’t expect to see me,” he began, formulating his words carefully. He only had one chance to do this, and really didn’t want to fuck it up -- whatever that meant in a situation like this. “At first, I didn’t think I’d come back either. You probably assumed that when you gave me that… _fucking pitiful_ goodbye at the coffee shop a few weeks ago, we were done…” He let out a long breath. “But, let’s be honest, Mom. We were done a long time ago. That just wasn’t _goodbye_.”

Brian contemplated what he wanted to say next; how personal he wanted to get. He still wasn’t sure whether or not Joan would hear a word of what he said -- she hadn’t reacted to anything thus far -- so maybe it was better to lay it all on the line. His lifelong mantra creeped back into his brain, and he scooted his chair a little closer to the bed. _No apologies, no regrets._

“In almost every conversation we’ve ever had, unless I was screaming my brains out at you, you’ve had control -- of the topics, of me -- of everything. And I’ve let it happen. Aside from two times: when you chose to _believe_ I would sexually abuse your shithead of a grandson, and when you told me I deserved to get cancer, which, by the way, was also super fucked up. I’ve _never_ forgiven you for either. Because _how fucking dare you_.” Brian paused, forcing himself to regain control of his emotions.

“But otherwise, I’ve let you have your way. I haven’t told you what I actually think about a lot of things you’ve said or done. In fact, I haven’t told you a lot in general, Mom.” He took a deep breath. “But I’m going to tell you now. Not because you _deserve_ to know -- I don’t actually know that you do -- but because _I_ deserve the chance to tell you what I’ve done with myself. _In spite_ of everything you and Jack put me through. And this time, you can’t do anything but _listen_.

“I know you hated more than anything the fact that I am gay. I’m sure you thought that was why I had no interest in the church, but I have no interest in the church because most religious people I know are fucking hypocrites -- including you. Including your beloved priest -- I’ll spare you how I know. But I am much happier living an authentic life than I would’ve been if I’d had to spend the majority of my time pretending to be someone I’m not, and the rest of it begging for forgiveness. I swore to myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t make my existence into a farce. I saw how well that worked out for you and Dad.” Brian let out a bitter laugh. “Maybe I’m a faggot, but at least I’ve spent my life doing exactly what I want. And I’m not sorry.” 

Brian cleared his throat. This was where, as Gus would say, shit was about to get real. “Speaking of doing what I want, I’m sure you know that I never wanted to get married. You constantly hounded me about finding a nice girl to bring home to introduce to you and Dad -- and I’m sure it disappointed you even more when it didn’t work out with the _one_ girl I did. Then, when you found out I was gay, you probably wrote off any chance of me finding love or happiness. So did I -- for a long time. But guess what, Mom? Despite all odds, miracle of fucking miracles, I found it. Him. _Justin_. You met him, even. He was eighteen and half-naked in my loft.” He snorted. “Guess that’s why you thought I’d willingly touch a kid, but Justin was never a kid to me. He was more of a grown-up than I’d ever been. He’s also the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me. So I married him. And Justin… he’s _it_ for me, Mom. I’m happier than I ever thought I could be. He’s everything a parent could ever want for their kid. And his mother loves and accepts me too. But you were _never_ willing to accept him -- all because he had a dick.” Brian sighed, honesty on display. “I wish you’d cared enough to know him. Maybe you would’ve been happy for me too.”

A quick glance around the room revealed a pitcher of water and stack of cups sitting on a portable table to the left of Joan’s bed, so Brian leaned over and poured himself a cup. He’d already done more talking in the last few minutes than over the entirety of the last several weeks, or so it felt. He wondered if Joan had absorbed anything so far; her current state continued to indicate nothing. 

Most of what Brian had shared up to this point had been relatively unplanned, the content spilling out as it came to mind, mostly unfiltered. There was one thing, however, he wanted to make sure he covered. “One thing you might’ve been happy about,” he continued, his throat feeling less dry. “Remember that girl I brought home? The one I didn’t marry?” He felt his lips curl into an involuntary smile, as the topic tended to invoke. “Well, I’m sure it’s a bit unorthodox by your standards, but… we did eventually have a baby. _Your grandson_. I never told you about him, because… why the fuck would I, all things considered? But… he’s a fucking dream. You would’ve been lucky to know him... I don’t know how _I_ got so lucky to be his dad. I never thought I’d care that much about being a parent, shining examples that I had around me, but… he changed everything. His name is Gus, and he’s eighteen. He lives in Canada with his moms -- yes, you heard that right -- but I see him pretty much whenever I want. And he loves Justin too.” Brian paused. “We’re a true family. And you have no idea how amazing that feels, because you never gave us the chance to try it.” 

The more Brian was able to talk without the interjection of his mother’s criticism or disputes, the more emboldened he felt. In many ways, it had been the first time he’d been able to speak so freely in front of her, absent the worry of being scolded or shamed. He told her about his professional career -- the parts she didn’t know, like how he’d impressed the figurative pants off of Marty Ryder, fresh out of college, became his youngest employee to advance to Account Executive, and won the Clios to back it up. He told her about his unceremonious fall from grace at VanGard after standing up for what he believed in -- despite the rampant hate, discrimination, and fucking _criminal cover-ups_ from people _she_ supported, like the crooked asshat Jim Stockwell.

He mentioned how, not only had he overcome the biggest obstacle of his career, but with support from a small but mighty group of people who loved him, he came back even bigger and more successful than ever with Kinnetik, his pride and joy -- the agency that he’d built from the ground up and turned into something of a commodity in the advertising world. It made him proud as hell to say that what had started as a dirty old bath house on Liberty Avenue was now a top-award-winning, multi-million-dollar powerhouse on Madison Avenue in New York-Fucking-City. In spite of it all, Brian had persevered. The life he led now bore the fruits of his labor, and Joan Kinney hadn’t had a thing to do with it -- except maybe that she’d inadvertently instilled within her youngest child the will and the drive to surpass any odd thrown at him. Because, from a very young age, Brian had learned that the only person he could count on was himself, and that really hadn’t changed until more recent years, largely due to hard-fought battles in which Justin refused to surrender.

Brian stood up long enough to stretch his back and refill his water cup. Another cursory glance at his mother’s prone form didn’t indicate any sort of change since he’d arrived. He looked down at her right hand, sitting motionless at her side atop the woven hospital blanket, wondering if taking it would provoke any type of reaction on her part -- a twitch or squeeze to indicate she was hearing him. But instead of reaching out, he sat back down. There was more to say first. 

“I’m sure you probably wonder what will happen with Claire and me once you’re gone,” he continued, unable to fight the bitter note that entered his voice at the mention of his older sister. “I’ll spare you the suspense: Nothing. I’m fucking done with that bitch. I’ll make sure everything you need is in place, because I always have, but I’ll be damned if she’ll try to swindle me for anything more. I am _done_ ,” he repeated, no questioning in the seriousness of his tone. He paused, thinking back on earlier in the day. “Funny enough, though, Mom, maybe you’d be happy to know that I spent some time with Peter earlier. Learned a lot about his life, and how much it’s been similar to mine… Birds of a feather flock together, I guess. I invited him and his girlfriend to visit us in the city before the end of the year -- introduce him to the part of the family he didn’t know he had. Poor kid had it rough with Claire for a mother, and I’m sure he’ll end up a lot like me -- successful but unappreciated, and yet still somehow obligated to ensure the worthless pieces of shit in his family stay at least somewhat afloat.” He snorted, rolling his eyes at the parallels. “But I guess if one good thing had to come out of this, I’m glad it was him. He’s a good guy.”

A glance at his watch made Brian realize that he’d been sitting there for over forty-five minutes, in a one-way conversation with the shell of the woman who had given birth to him. He thought of Justin back at the hotel, probably trying to stay busy with a mindless TV show, by reading his book, or more likely, texting or talking with Daphne to speculate what might be happening -- because, while he knew that Justin did his best to respect Brian’s privacy, Brian also wasn’t born yesterday, and knew exactly what happened when Justin and his lifelong best friend got into cahoots together. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to be back in the warmth and safety of Justin’s arms -- the one true constant he’d come to know in his life. But, he had one last thing to say.

Realizing that he was entering the last few minutes he’d ever spend with his mother, he wanted to make it count. The woman had rejected him in more ways than he knew how to count, but she’d never really been cruel to him -- not by the traditional definition of what cruelty meant. “I know you probably don’t understand why I’ve felt the way I have toward you for most of my life,” he began, for the final time. “So, I guess, with that in mind, I want you to know that I _do_ think you probably did the best you knew how to do. That you tried to love me, despite resenting me, despite feeling guilty that you let me come into the world… And I guess I owe you thanks for that -- for giving me life. Because, like I’ve told you tonight, I have a pretty fucking great one. I wouldn’t be the person I am now without everything you did, shitty as it may have felt in the moment.”

Brian let out a heavy sigh, knowing he was nearing the end of his thoughts. “I hope wherever you go after this… Heaven… Hell… Reincarnated as a pitbull--” he huffed out a laugh at the sheer thought of it, “--whatever the fuck happens to us after we leave this life,” he added, shrugging. “I hope you find peace, I hope you find love, and I hope that as you go, you’re not in pain.” He cleared his throat, his voice having grown thick with unexpected emotion. “I hope you get what you originally wanted in this life… because I can’t imagine it was anything close to the fucked-up reality you ultimately chose to live.”

There was a soft knock, then the door cracked slightly and Aubrie peeked back in, causing Brian to look up quickly. “I’m so sorry to disturb you, but I need to check Miss Joan’s vitals again. I could come back in a few minutes…” she said, her tone apologetic.

Brian shook his head. “It’s fine. I’m just getting ready to leave.”

Aubrie nodded. “Of course. Well, why don’t I give you a moment to say goodnight, and I’ll be right in.” 

“Thank you,” Brian replied, giving her a small smile. He continued to watch the door until it closed again and the dimness of the room returned, then he stood and stepped toward his mother, taking her in for one last time. 

He gently set a hand atop hers, feeling the only form of warmth from her that he’d ever really known. She didn’t move, and Brian found he actually felt grateful. He’d said everything he needed to; what Joan did with it was now up to her. 

“Goodbye, Mom,” he whispered, ignoring the heaviness behind his eyes. “I loved you more than you’ll ever know. _I just wish it had been enough_.” 

Aubrie opened the door again a second later, sparing Brian from the emotions he feared would otherwise erupt. “Will we see you back here tomorrow?”

“Unfortunately not,” Brian said, shaking his head. “I’ll be leaving town.” The truth was, he _could_ come back if he wanted; their flight to JFK wasn’t until much later in the day. But he’d done what he’d come to do -- there was no need to prolong the ending. There was one thing, though: “Aubrie, could you let me know if anything… changes in the next few weeks? I… don’t know that my sister will.”

A look of understanding flashed across Aubrie’s face -- a clear indication that she had already had the misfortune of the Claire Kinney Experience, but she quickly neutralized her expression and smiled, nodding. “Yes, of course.”

Brian quickly jotted down his cell phone number on a slip of paper Aubrie provided, and thanked her for providing such compassionate care, then took in his mother for the final time, though he knew that this was not the version Joan would have wanted him to commit to memory. With that in mind, he nodded at Aubrie and walked out the door, refusing to allow himself to look back. 

If he had, he might’ve seen Aubrie take Joan’s hand, but he wouldn’t have heard her quietly ask if she’d enjoyed the visit with her son. And he definitely wouldn’t have known that in response, Joan had squeezed her nurse’s hand with the most force she could muster.

Brian was only looking forward now.

***

To Justin’s credit, he didn’t appear to be rushing off a call with Daphne when Brian re-entered the hotel room. Instead, he was curled up on his side of the bed with the lights off, watching an episode of Seinfeld that was easily more than three-quarters of his age. Brian wondered if he’d even watched the show when it originally aired in real-time, but upon closer inspection, he realized Justin hadn’t really been paying that much attention, even now. Before Brian could even approach the bed, Justin sat up and turned off the TV, switching on his bedside lamp instead.

“Expecting someone?” Brian teased, giving him a small smirk. 

Justin smirked back, but then gave Brian a more serious look. “I wasn’t sure when you’d get back, and I wanted to be… well, awake, for one, but also just… _here_.”

Brian nodded, grateful for what Justin was offering. “Let me take a quick shower, and then we can talk?”

“Sure,” Justin agreed, and reached to turn the TV back on, this time flipping it to a local news channel. His relief that Brian seemed relatively normal and unscathed was palpable.

True to his word, a boxer-brief clad Brian returned less than ten minutes later, skin still slightly damp. 

“Aren’t you cold?” Justin asked, pulling back the blankets on Brian’s side of the bed so he could climb in.

Brian gave him a small shrug as he got under the covers. “I thought that’s what you were for.” 

Justin tried to read between the lines for any note of suggestivity in Brian’s tone. The last thing he’d expected from Brian was arousal, following his final visit to his mother, but stranger things were known to be pulled from the arsenal known as Brian’s coping skills. Fortunately, for now, Brian seemed to be teasing, though proximity was something he clearly desired as he scooted closer to Justin’s body than he typically would for a conversation. 

“Do you mind if I--” Brian began, reaching for the remote and using it to gesture toward the TV.

“Of course not,” Justin said. “Do you want the light out too?” He wasn’t sure how emotional Brian was feeling, and the darkness would grant him a little bit of a refuge.

Brian shrugged again. “It doesn’t matter,” he decided, turning off the television, and then stashing the remote on his bedside table. Justin took his indifference as a good thing; it meant Brian wasn’t trying to hide from his own vulnerability, and, at least for the time being, was willing to take his chances in terms of what Justin ended up seeing.

He looked over at Justin, a somewhat expectant look on his face, but Justin didn’t want to start rapidfire questioning, or really leading the conversation at all. He had plenty of time to find out what _he_ wanted to know. This time together was intended entirely for Brian’s benefit.

Justin gave Brian a small smile and took his hand gently, simply asking, “What do you need right now?”

Brian was quiet for several seconds, his teeth worrying his lower lip as he contemplated the question. Finally, he let out a half-hearted laugh. “I don’t really know what I _need_ ,” he began slowly, his voice a bit uncertain.

“What do you want, then?” Justin tried encouragingly, trying to keep the atmosphere as pressure-free as he could. He didn’t sense a hesitance to share on Brian’s part, but he also didn’t want Brian to feel like he was expected to go beyond his comfort zone with wherever he was in processing the night.

This time, though, Brian seemed a bit more sure of himself. “I want to be close to you,” he said, his hand tightening around Justin’s, “and then I want to tell you what I did tonight. Because I’m pretty fucking proud of it.” 

Justin smiled, happy to hear Brian taking ownership of something he did for himself on a personal level, especially since, presumably, it involved his mother. “The first part can be arranged,” he said, moving even closer to his husband. Brian wrapped his arms around Justin, pulling their bodies together. Justin leaned his head on Brian’s shoulder, a little disappointed that he could no longer see the other man’s face from this position, but he noticed that Brian’s posture had relaxed considerably, so he figured Brian knew what he needed. “I’d love to hear the second part,” he continued, once Brian had shifted himself into a more comfortable position.

Brian laughed softly into Justin’s hair. “I told her everything. Well, not _everything_ , but… I didn’t hold back. I told her about my life -- about work and everything I’ve done. I told her about you, and Gus, and even Peter, a little. I told her how fucking _amazing_ I am now, in spite of everything I never got from her. For the first time in my life, I fucking owned it _all_.”

Justin smiled again, this time even bigger, knowing Brian had to feel it against his skin. “I’m so glad. You deserve that. She needed to know how _fucking amazing_ her son is! I’m so proud of you. What did she say?”

Brian hesitated. His left hand had been making lazy circles on Justin’s back, but it stopped moving. “She didn’t say anything… Honestly, I’m not even sure if she heard me. She appeared to be asleep the whole time, but the nurse said she had responded to others.” Brian sighed. “I could have checked. I could have asked her to squeeze my hand to be sure, but… at some point, I just realized… I wasn’t doing it for her. I was doing it for _myself_. For every fucking time over the past almost _fifty_ years that I didn’t tell her something important because I knew I wouldn’t get the response I wanted -- the response I _deserved_. And finally, on the last time I’ll ever talk to her, I realized… _I just don’t fucking care_. I didn’t need her response or her validation. I just wanted her to know who her son became.”

Justin couldn’t hide the small sniffle that escaped as he listened to his husband talk.

Brian looked down questioningly, pulling back enough so that he could fully see Justin’s face. 

“I’m sorry,” Justin said quickly, wiping at his eye. “I’m just so, so fucking proud of you. I’m… happy for you. This must have felt so--”

“--Liberating,” Brian finished thickly, grateful that Justin understood. 

Justin nodded. “You deserve it more than anyone I know. I just--” Unable to find the words he was looking for, Justin leaned up to kiss Brian instead, communicating physically what he couldn’t formulate verbally. When they separated, he looked back up at his husband and smiled, repeating, “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Brian smiled down at him, appearing almost shy and looking a little teary-eyed, though he wasn’t outwardly crying. “Thanks.” 

They lay together on the bed for several more minutes, enjoying the warmth and comfort of each others’ bodies, and both taking time to reflect on their thoughts from the evening. 

Finally, Brian broke the silence, shifting slightly so he could see Justin’s face again. “What else do you want to know?” he asked. “I’m sure you have questions.” 

Justin shrugged. “I think you answered pretty much everything. I guess that… even though you said it doesn’t matter -- and I’m glad -- I can’t help but wonder if she did hear you. I hope she did.” 

“I know, me too,” Brian admitted. “But after I got it all out, I just didn’t really… _need_ to know.”

Justin nodded in acceptance. “Even if she didn’t, at least you can be sure that the people you choose to keep in your life know what a fucking phenomenal person you are -- how smart you are, how much you do for the people you love, how much you care even when you want people to think you don’t... how generous you are with _everything_ you have--” Justin teasingly gave Brian’s ass a gentle squeeze with his last comment, prompting an amused smile from the older man, though neither made any effort to follow-up on the gesture. Justin was glad; though he was gladly willing to indulge Brian’s sexual whims on a very regular basis -- including earlier that day -- it seemed that, for once, what Brian really craved was true comfort. He wasn’t looking for sex to bury or replace a feeling he didn’t want to acknowledge, and in many ways, that in itself was also progress. 

Despite the expression on Brian’s face, indicating just how much Justin’s words had meant to him, he shook his head. “I’m not that amazing… I just don’t think I’m as _bad_ as anyone in my family ever tried to make me out to be.”

Justin scoffed. “First, you _are_ that amazing, and it’s not up for further debate--” he paused, smirking at his husband, who made a face in return, but mimicked zipping his lips. “And second, the _good_ thing from all of this is that now you do have at least one family member who will get to know you for _you_.”

“Peter,” Brian said fondly, smiling at the memory of the transformative afternoon spent with his formerly-estranged nephew. The world did have a tendency to work in mysterious ways. 

Eventually , Justin turned off the light, but they stayed in each other’s arms, talking quietly and sharing periodic gentle kisses, until Brian finally drifted off to sleep, seeming more peaceful than he had in several weeks. 

Justin hoped that it was the start of an upswing.

***

The ringing of Brian’s phone woke them both from sound sleep, shortly after three o’clock, which took Justin by surprise, as Brian nearly always set his phone to vibrate when they got in bed. Justin guessed that maybe he’d forgotten, caught up in their discussion of the evening.

“Fuck,” Brian muttered, slapping at the nightstand, in a half-hearted effort to locate the device. When he finally retrieved it and held it up to his face, Justin noticed that the screen displayed a Pittsburgh number, rather than a familiar name. The phone illumination indicated that, from Brian’s facial expression, he was just as perplexed.

Justin expected Brian to ignore the call, silence his phone, and go back to sleep, but Brian just sighed and swiped to the right, choosing to answer.

“Hello?” He listened carefully, and Justin briefly cursed the darkness of the room, the phone light now obstructed by Brian’s ear. “Yes, of course,” Brian continued, the opposing voice too soft for Justin to make out the other side of the conversation. A moment later, Brian asked, “When?” Long pauses spaced his next few remarks. “That was very fortunate… No, please don’t. I appreciate the call… No, that’s not necessary… Yes, I’m sure… No, please just let her know I’ll take care of it.” Another long minute. “Thank you very much. Goodnight.”

Justin wasn’t sure what to expect when Brian set his phone back down on the table. The call itself had seemed rather benign, and Brian’s voice hadn’t betrayed any sort of emotion to indicate there was a problem. “Is everything okay?” he asked carefully. 

Brian let out a sigh that was half-laugh and half-shuddering breath, but didn’t respond right away, immediately triggering alarm bells in Justin’s head. 

“Brian?” he tried instead, his voice soft but insistent. 

“Two-fifty-eight,” Brian whispered. 

“What about it?” Justin asked gently, his body suddenly feeling tight with anxiety.

The sigh Brian let out this time was much heavier before he replied, voice just as soft. “My mother took her last breath at two-fifty-eight. She’s dead.” 

Justin’s heart sank and he glanced at the clock, noticing that it was now ten minutes after three. Less than fifteen minutes prior, Joan Kinney had still been alive. Though Justin still couldn’t see Brian’s face, he could feel that his husband was sitting motionless in the dark. “What do you need?” he asked, placing a hand on Brian’s arm. 

The response Justin received was unhelpful, but he also knew it was brutally honest: “ _I don’t know._ ” 

Justin desperately wanted to turn on a light, to study Brian’s face and hope it held some sort of clue as to what was running through his head as he processed the information, but as much as Justin desired some answers, he knew Brian likely felt the same about space, as he struggled to wrap his mind around this new reality. Nothing about what he’d said earlier that night had indicated that Joan was likely in her final hours of life -- Justin was fairly certain that this was as much of a shock to Brian as it was to him. And while it sounded like Brian had gotten some information over the phone, just as earlier in the evening, there would be an appropriate time for Justin’s questions; for now, Brian himself was the priority.

They sat in complete silence for nearly six minutes. Justin was sure of it, because he’d watched the clock, feeling every second of each minute tick by as he waited for a sign of something… _anything_ … from his husband. 

When Justin heard Brian let out another long, shuddering breath that dissolved into quiet sobs, he acted quickly, pulling the other man into his arms and holding him tightly. Brian pressed his face into Justin’s neck, hot tears searing into his skin as Brian’s pent-up emotions were finally released, and he gripped Justin’s body as if holding on for dear life while he cried. However, unlike the first time he’d broken down similarly in Justin’s arms a few weeks before, Brian’s sobs lasted only a few minutes, and, though his tears continued to fall, his breathing quickly became more steady.

“What are you thinking?” Justin asked quietly, once he’d wiped his own tears from his eyes.

Brian was silent for a long time, but when he finally spoke, his voice rang of absolution: “ _I’m free_.”

***

Justin hadn’t managed to sleep much for the remainder of the night, still concerned about his husband, but blessedly, Brian had eventually dozed off again and stayed asleep until nearly nine o’clock in the morning -- much later than he seemed pre-programmed to do on a normal work day. As far as Justin knew, Brian hadn’t planned on working much that day, regardless of the circumstances, so it was a non-issue, but it made him feel better to know Brian was able to get some extra rest. The last few weeks had been exhausting for _him_ , so he could only imagine the true toll it had taken on Brian.

Since they were in a hotel, and Justin had no intention of going anywhere until he knew Brian was awake and okay, he stayed in bed, scrolling through new emails on his phone and reading a few articles relevant to some upcoming art installations he intended to check out during the holiday season. He briefly considered texting his mom and Daphne to let them know about Joan, but he realized that he still had very little information, aside from the fact that she was gone, and he was sure that the women in his life would be full of questions. He also figured that Brian should be the one to inform Michael and Debbie, in his own way and time. 

Brian woke up bleary-eyed, but his mood seemed better than Justin had anticipated. There had been some concern that Brian would have to be reminded of the news he’d received early that morning, but before Justin could question it, Brian gave him a kiss and thanked him for being there, and then asked if they could shower before they talked further, so he could wake up a bit more first.

Justin washed himself quickly, keeping an eye on Brian as he simply stood under the hot spray, letting it pound his upper body. As soon as Justin had finished his own tasks, he prepared a loofah for Brian and painstakingly began to spread the lather along his back, torso, arms, and legs. Once his husband was completely soapy, Justin reached up to his shoulders and began to carefully massage out some of the tension, the suds allowing his fingers to slide easily along the muscles. Brian groaned appreciatively, rinsing off the rest of the soap himself after Justin had finished soothing his back. 

Once they dried off, they both pulled on the matching white hotel-issued bathrobes and headed back into the bedroom. Justin made coffee, and then they opted to settle in the small sitting area, rather than returning to the bed. 

“Thanks for giving me some time to… feel human,” Brian said after he sipped his coffee.

Justin smiled and reached over to squeeze his hand, but didn’t say anything, opting to leave Brian with the floor for whatever else he wanted to share. 

“The call I got… it was the nurse I met when I was there last night. Her name was Aubrie, and she seemed way too fucking… I don’t know…. Nice? Innocent? Sweet… to be working in a place like that. She said they’d noticed that my mother’s pulse was starting to drop a little, not too long after I left, but that, considering everything about her condition, it wasn’t terribly abnormal or concerning. It wasn’t until Aubrie went in for her three o’clock rounds that she was certain the end was near. She apologized for not realizing it sooner -- it was only by sheer fluke that she was there when it happened, because they’d been cleaning the floors, and she’d had to re-configure her patient order for that round, so she got to Joanie’s room earlier than planned.” 

“Wow,” Justin breathed out, feeling like there definitely weren’t meant to be coincidences in life. 

“Yeah,” Brian echoed his tone, suddenly sounding tired again, and he set his coffee on the small table in front of them. “She asked if I wanted her to wait before she contacted my sister, if I wanted some time with Joan.” He hesitated. “I told her no.”

“That was nice of her,” Justin commented, realizing that the nurse must’ve had more awareness of the importance behind Brian’s visit than even Brian had realized. Despite not being surprised by his husband’s decision, Justin was grateful for the nurse’s display of grace in offering Brian the opportunity. 

Brian nodded, then his face crumpled as he choked up. “She wanted to make sure I knew that, when it happened, my mother wasn’t alone -- and that it was fast, peaceful, and she wasn’t in distress or pain.” He took a breath as he held in a sob, exhaling it a moment later. “That’s all I hoped to know about it.”

Justin squeezed Brian’s hand again, and then pulled him into a hug that Brian returned tightly. Neither had words for how much the nurse’s gesture had meant -- how much _more_ closure it had provided. _That_ was why people like Aubrie entered the profession, Justin realized -- to give people the true kindness and compassion they deserved when letting go of a loved one -- especially someone who had a complicated relationship like Brian’s with Joan. When the two men separated, Brian seeming calm again, Justin remembered one other thing he’d overheard in the conversation. “What did you say you’d take care of?”

“Oh,” Brian said, nodding in recognition as he reached for his coffee cup again. “There’s one other thing I need to do before we leave town today.” 

***

They finished their coffee and dressed, walking down the block to a local bakery to grab something quick for breakfast before Brian excused himself for the as-yet mystery task he had to complete. 

Justin went back to the hotel to finish packing both of their belongings, briefly filled in his mom and Daphne as to what had happened and assured them that Brian was doing okay, and had pulled out a pad to sketch the view of the Pittsburgh skyline from their hotel window when Brian returned, nearly three hours later. 

“Did you do what you needed to?” he asked, closing the sketchpad and setting it aside.

Brian nodded. “I stopped to see Mikey and Deb.”

“How did that go?”

“Easier than I expected,” Brian admitted. “I feel okay right now. It’s like… the moment I accepted she was gone, I felt this weight lift off of me that I hadn’t even known was there. If you’d told me that could happen even a few weeks ago, I’d have told you it was fucking bullshit, but…” He shrugged. “I’m okay.” 

“Is that what you had to do?” Justin asked, feeling a little confused. He figured that Brian talking to his adopted family was a given -- Michael and Debbie would have definitely felt hurt had Brian left town without informing them of what had happened.

Brian shook his head. “No…” He paused, then gave Justin a surprisingly mischievous smile before adding, “I went to see Father Tom.” 

Justin’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “You… what?”

Brian nodded, seeming satisfied with himself. “You heard me. I set foot in my mother’s church, and it didn’t burn to the ground!” 

Justin smirked, but said, “Isn’t the idea that _you_ would catch fire, and not the church itself?”

Brian gave him a disapproving look. “Sunshine, I have spent nearly five decades working my _ass_ off to earn my current level of potential combustion in a house of worship. Give me some fucking credit!”

Now, Justin laughed in earnest, delighted to see the return of Brian’s sense of humor. “Fine, fine,” he relegated, waving Brian on with his story. “Why did you see Father Tom? Did he already know?”

“Yeah, he knew,” Brian replied, his expression sobering considerably. “Before she went into hospice, Joanie had requested he be called to deliver last rites before she passed. There wasn’t much time last night, but he said the nurse had tried to reach him, so he arrived shortly after, and--” Brian shook his head, not wanting to distract from his original intention. “Anyway, I had something I wanted to discuss with him regarding my mother’s final arrangements.” 

Justin raised his eyebrows curiously, but remained silent, waiting for him to continue. 

“As I’m sure we all know -- fuck, as even _Aubrie the Nurse_ seemed to know, my worthless cunt of a sister has every intention of draining every penny out of me that she possibly can before I cut her out of my life. She’s going to shit herself when she finds out that the only way that’ll happen is over _my_ dead body -- and not even then, because the people who _will_ get my money if I’m gone before her better know that she isn’t to touch a cent, unless they want me to haunt them forever, in the most torturous way I can fathom.” 

“I don’t even want to ask what that means,” Justin said, shaking his head in amusement, but he grew serious again, wanting to know what Brian had done.

Brian smiled again, this time looking genuinely pleased with himself. “I gave Father Tom a sizable check with instructions to deposit it and withdraw whatever is needed to ensure that Joan’s final wishes are honored in full. He’s free to donate the remainder of the funds as he wishes, so long as my sister never touches it. He’s a man of the cloth, he’ll keep his word. Besides, he knew my mother better than anyone. I trust he’ll know what to do. It’s literally the absolute least I can do for her.”

Justin let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His husband truly was an amazing person. Though Brian’s gesture was, in many ways, a complete and long-deserved “fuck you” to his older sister, it was also an unbelievably considerate gesture toward his mother and the one place she’d truly loved and counted on during her life. 

_Jesus_ , Justin thought, mentally adding, _no pun intended. That family really didn’t deserve him._ Aloud, he said, “I think that’s an incredibly fair and beautiful way to approach it.” 

Brian shrugged. “I feel good about it.” However he frowned, belying his words, but then added, “He asked if I’d be returning for the funeral services.” 

“We can if you want,” Justin said immediately, not sure how Brian would choose to respond -- he had a strong inkling toward how that would go, but he certainly didn’t want Brian to feel that he was closed to the idea. 

“No,” Brian replied, almost immediately, and with clear conviction in his tone. “I’ve said goodbye to my mother in every way that matters to me. The rest is an unnecessary spectacle.”

Justin nodded, reaching out to squeeze his husband’s hand. “Then let’s go home.” 

*** 

Fortunately, they didn’t encounter similar turbulence issues on their flight back to New York, and Brian stayed awake the whole time, reading over some documents he’d picked up at work the previous day, while Justin continued to work on the sketch he’d started that morning. 

“Thank god we’re home,” Brian murmured, as they walked into their apartment shortly after nine o’clock. He tried not to think about how, twenty-four hours earlier, he’d just arrived at his mother’s bedside, and she’d still been alive. It was amazing how much a day could change -- now Joan was gone, leaving Brian officially parentless, but despite the loss, there was something incomparable that he had gained: a new level of emancipation from the demons that had haunted him since his childhood. 

“Are you tired?” Justin asked, rolling their suitcases toward the bedroom door. 

Brian shrugged. “I don’t think my body knows any other mode after the last few weeks.” 

Justin smiled sympathetically, and walked back over to his husband, first pulling him in for a hug, and then leaning up to finish with a kiss. “Why don’t I run us a bath to share before bed? We can pour some wine and just relax.”

“That sounds perfect,” Brian admitted, wondering if maybe taking baths was going to become something of a regular de-stresser for him. The last time he’d taken one in the midst of turmoil, it had worked wonders, and now, the idea of including his sexy husband and a bottle of wine made it sound that much more appealing. 

Justin kissed Brian one more time, and then pulled away, turning to head back toward the master suite. “I’m going to call my mom to let her know we’re home, and I’ll start the water,” he said, before heading through the double doors, pulling their luggage in behind him. 

Brian wandered over to the bar in their kitchen, selecting two delicate cabernet glasses, a corresponding wine bottle, and a corkscrew. He was about to gather the items to take with him into the bedroom when his phone began ringing with a FaceTime alert. Brian’s brow furrowed. Typically, he only video-chatted with Gus or Justin -- and with the former, it was generally scheduled, and the latter wasn’t usually within the same dwelling. When he got close enough to read the name on his phone display, his eyes widened even more: _Peter Kinney._

Mildly concerned, Brian swiped to connect the call, quickly scanning himself in the tiny corner window to make sure he looked presentable. Within a few seconds, Peter’s face entered the screen, and he smiled when he saw his uncle looking back at him. 

“Hey, Uncle Brian,” he greeted.

“Hey yourself,” Brian replied. “This was unexpected.” 

Peter frowned slightly. “I hope it’s okay. I wanted to make sure you guys got home okay, and figured if I called this way, I could do something else too.” 

Brian nodded, vaguely aware that their Justin-approved chef’s kitchen served as his backdrop, and he briefly worried that it might seem a little pretentious, but quickly got over it -- it was his home, and Peter would likely be staying there himself, soon enough. Besides, Peter wasn’t his sister Claire; he didn’t need to worry about what comments or assumptions would be made after the fact. 

“We’re home,” Brian said, somewhat unnecessarily, considering his prior musing. “How are you holding up?” he asked, realizing that Peter was now grappling with the news of losing his only grandmother. 

Peter sighed. “We’re hanging in there. I mean, I’m alright. My mom is…” he paused, huffing out a sad laugh and shaking his head. “I’m sure you can guess.” 

“I’m sure,” Brian agreed, hoping that was the extent of their conversation about his sister. It was only a matter of time before she received the news of his “gift” to Father Tom, and there was no doubt that some display of fireworks would ensue. Brian hoped he’d only have to hear about it, if even that. “Do you need anything?” he asked Peter, wanting to make sure that his nephew understood that, no matter what happened between Brian and Claire, it wasn’t meant to apply to him. 

“No, I’m fine. A little shocked, honestly, but… we all knew it was going to happen, so, I guess I see it as better that it wasn’t long and drawn out. The nurse actually said she was one of the ‘lucky’ ones. I guess it can be a lot worse in the end.” Peter paused and sighed, then looked back up, refocused. “That’s not why I called, though. I mainly just couldn’t wait to introduce you to someone.”

Brian raised his eyebrows. “Oh? And who might that be?”

Peter grinned and then flipped his phone horizontally to widescreen mode. As soon as the view expanded, Brian saw that he was joined by a pretty Asian girl with long dark hair and friendly eyes. “This is Alexis, my girlfriend. I told her about you last night, and about how you invited us to come visit--”

“Hi,” Alexis said, smiling and waving. “Nice to meet you!”

“Likewise,” Brian replied, smiling and nodding back in her direction. 

“Sorry, I’m sure this is kind of awkward,” Peter apologized, moving the phone back mainly in his direction for a moment. “It’s just that she’s never had good experiences with people in my family, so I was really excited to show her that I finally have someone we can get to know and actually look forward to being around.” 

Brian felt his smile increase. It was one thing to tell Justin he felt like things would go in that direction with Peter, but it felt like it had reached a new level, knowing that Peter himself was so enthused over the prospect. “I suppose I have someone to introduce to you as well, then,” he realized, starting to move over toward their bedroom, but wanting to verify that Justin was still presentable before giving him screentime. 

Justin was just setting his own phone down on the bed, and had been about to pull his sweater over his head when Brian held out a hand to stop him, and then motioned for him to come closer. Brow furrowed, Justin noticed that Brian was apparently on a FaceTime call, and mouthed, “Gus?” and then looked even more confused when Brian shook his head no, but walked around to stand next to his husband anyway. 

“Peter and Alexis, this is my husband, Justin,” Brian introduced, as soon as Justin was in the frame with him. Both of the younger adults smiled and waved, and Justin did the same, his eyes bright and his sunshine smile at full wattage as soon as he’d realized what was happening. 

“I hear you’ll be spending some time with us in a couple weeks,” Justin said immediately, causing the couple to nod excitedly. 

They spent the next ten minutes chatting so that everyone could get to know each other a little better, and by the end of the call, they had agreed that they definitely wanted to set a date for their visit sooner than later. Before the call ended, Justin headed back to the bedroom to start their bath, and Alexis had wandered away, giving Peter and Brian another minute to speak privately. 

When Brian finally joined Justin in the bathroom, he took a moment to stand in the doorway, admiring the lit candles and the towel-clad backside of his husband as he bent down to check the water temperature, but then walked the rest of the way in, wrapping his arms around Justin from behind as soon as he stood again. 

“That was nice,” Justin said, leaning back into Brian’s embrace. 

“It was,” Brian agreed, releasing him and beginning to work on removing his own clothing. “Bizarre, but nice.”

Justin smiled, patting Brian on the arm. “I’ll go grab the wine. The water’s good, so just get in when you’re ready.” 

Brian had just settled into the large soaking tub when Justin came back in, the stems of two filled wine glasses carefully balanced in one hand, and the bottle in the other. Brian took the glasses from him, and he deposited the bottle safely on the ledge, before pulling off his towel and climbing in, settling against Brian’s chest. 

“You know,” Brian began, after handing Justin a glass and keeping one for himself. “Despite all of the shit that’s happened over the past couple weeks, in this moment, right now, I can honestly say I’m okay, and I wouldn’t change anything. Being here with you… with the conversation we just had with my nephew and probable niece… with the future. I’m actually… _good_.”

Justin turned his head and leaned up to kiss his husband, then held up his glass. “I’ll drink to that!” They clinked their glasses and took a sip of wine before leaning in for another kiss. “I’m glad you feel that way,” Justin said, leaning back against Brian’s shoulder when they separated. “You’ve deserved this for so long. I hope it’s the beginning of something incredible.” 

Brian smiled softly, feeling the most peaceful he had in months as he sat in perfectly warm water, surrounded by twinkling candlelights, pressed skin-to-skin with the man he loved, and with a lifetime of new opportunities ahead of him. 

“You know, Sunshine? I think it will be.”

**Author's Note:**

> ... There will probably be more.
> 
> Encouragement appreciated ;)


End file.
